


over this hill you are a king

by enredo



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-13
Updated: 2016-01-13
Packaged: 2018-05-13 19:21:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5714164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enredo/pseuds/enredo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sergio escapes to Porto in the middle of the week.</p>
            </blockquote>





	over this hill you are a king

Sergio escapes to Porto in the middle of the week. 

 

He had never seen the city like this, not in daylight, and he hadn’t had time to be there yet, not for this. Technically, he couldn’t spare the luxury of a trip in the middle of the week to spend only 14 hours there, but he needed it. He needed him, the words and the touch and he needed to see him, God, it’s been so long. 

 

The taxi driver doesn’t even blink when he gives him the address, but he gives him a second look through the mirror. Sergio can’t tell if he recognizes him or not, but the driver stays quiet and Sergio doesn’t think he cares if it’s all over the news how he paid his old friend a visit.

 

The city, somehow, fits Iker. And notice, the city is the one that fits him, because Iker is bigger than that, he has ways of transforming things and people around him, at least in Sergio’s eyes. It’s not Madrid, because Iker and Madrid are one and will always be one, but it’s nice. Sergio had tried hard not to resent it, and it became easier when he found out Iker had liked it.  _ ‘It feels like I can breathe differently. I don’t know how to explain’  _ Iker had said, and Sergio had nodded,  _ ‘I understand.’  _ he had said, except he didn’t.  _ ‘It feels like I can’t breathe since you left.’  _ He wanted to say, but he had kept quiet.

 

In the backseat of the car, Sergio feels his lungs expanding. 

 

-

 

The house is different from Iker’s in Madrid in every way, and Sergio realizes he has never been inside it. It’s foreign. 

 

It doesn’t feel right to use the copy of the keys Sara had given him to let himself inside, and he notices Iker’s favorite car is not parked anyway. So he sits on Iker’s porch and waits. 

 

-

 

The night before, Sergio had called him. _ ‘I miss you.’ _ Iker had said, for the first time since he left. It’s not as if he hadn’t missed Sergio as soon as he had landed on Portugal, no, but saying and repeating it wasn’t fair to either of them, wasn’t going to make it better. The occasions they saw each other now were few and far between, and Iker wasn’t about to make it worse. Sergio, of course, disagreed. 

 

And there he was now, sitting on his porch while Iker parked his car, already grinning from ear to ear even if he couldn’t see Iker through the dark windows. Iker breathes and gets a grip and steps out of the car, neglecting and abandoning his dirty training gear on the backseat. 

 

“Isn’t your face hurting from smiling this much?” He asks Sergio, because this is familiar, because he’s the controlled one out of the two of them, but he can already feel himself barely holding back a smile. Sergio shrugs. God, he’s there, he’s at an arm’s reach and Iker breathes again, controls himself, they need to get inside first.

 

He walks past him and unlocks the door. “Haven’t you got a key?”

 

“It felt rude to let myself in like that.” Sergio says, and Iker frowns because Sergio had never bothered with such things before. 

 

“If you have a key it’s because you can.” Iker answers, but Sergio only shrugs again. 

 

-

 

They don’t jump on each other as soon as they’re inside. Instead, Sergio leaves his backpack on the living room and silently follows Iker into the kitchen, who starts going through the cabinets looking for something. 

 

“Wine?”

 

“It’s four o’clock,” Sergio laughs. “Are you trying to get me drunk so I can’t leave tomorrow?”

 

Iker turns to him with the single purpose of rolling his eyes at him. “Always, you always want wine.” He says, and Sergio can’t disagree. 

 

The corners of Iker’s lips turn up into a half-smile, amused and fond and Sergio loves him with such a force that feels like a punch to the stomach.

 

-

 

They share the same glass but Sergio drinks the red liquid more than Iker as usual. They talk, Sergio sitting on the counter and their hands brushing next to him, tentative. He talks and talks about the club and the boys and Zizou, and Iker hums and nods and replies at the right times because he cares, God knows how much he cares, how much the club still feels  _ his,  _ but being this close to Sergio makes him think of himself as a man who has been on the desert without any water for days. He can’t drink all the water he finds at once, he has to take it slowly, to get used to it again because even the tiniest drop of it seems like too much.

 

He only realizes Sergio has stopped talking when he laces their fingers above the countertop. 

 

“Were you listening?” Sergio smiles, not offended, not mad, only amused. 

 

“I always listen,” Iker frowns. “Tell them not to drool all over Zizou if they can.” 

 

“That’s what I say everyday.” Sergio chuckles, but looks at Iker like he didn’t care to talk anymore either. “Come here,” He says and pulls Iker to him like a magnet, until Iker is standing between his legs and Sergio’s arms are around his shoulders, and Iker can do little but close his eyes and lean in fully into the embrace.

 

His arms come up to wrap them around Sergio’s waist and he buries his face into his neck, breathing in the familiar scent and pushing them closer, impossibly closer. Sergio has his lips pressed against his temple, one hand in Iker’s hair, running his nails gently down his scalp while the other is planted firmly, almost possessively on the nape of his neck. 

 

He doesn’t know how long they stay like that, getting familiar with each other again, but sometime later Sergio pushes Iker away just a little, just enough so he can look at him, hands framing Iker’s face and thumbs mapping skin, tracing his eyebrows, the shape of his jawline, the curve of his lips. 

 

“You look…” 

 

“Tired?”

 

“Younger.” Sergio smiles. “You look relaxed. Porto is doing you some good.” 

 

_ ‘It’s you.’  _ Iker wants to say, but doesn’t. Sergio, on the other hand, looks tired, and Iker’s heart aches for him. He wants to say he’s been here, he wants to tell him Madrid will give him everything and take everything he has to give, but Sergio knows it all already. 

 

“There you go, over thinking.” Sergio sighs, but he’s not nearly as annoying as he pretends to be. “You’re so boring.” He says, but kisses Iker right away and completely misses his own point. 

 

He tastes like wine, home, warmth, and a million other clichê things Iker has read in Jane Austen books but they all fit Sergio anyway. 

 

-

 

They take their times undressing each other, the sun outside going down and the curtains are only half open, but the light somehow makes Sergio looks golden and Iker wonder why he is the one called saint. 

 

He’s still as beautiful as ever and Iker’s heart does that funny thing, his mouth waters. 

 

-

 

They take their times undressing each other and Sergio feels his hand trembling with want, with longing, and he can’t believe he has Iker so close to where he wants him again. He wants to touch and kiss and lick at his skin and he can breathe, God, is this what Iker meant with the whole  _ ‘the city is letting me breathe’ _ thing?

 

-

 

Then there’s only them, the feeling of Iker pushing inside Sergio and Sergio holding on to him for dear life, kissing everywhere he can reach and Iker’s grip on his thighs is so strong he’ll leave marks and Sergio loves it, can’t wait to have Iker lingering on his skin for weeks.

 

“I always want you like this,” Sergio whispers against his skin. “This is where you belong.”

 

-

 

Iker wants to drag him to the shower, wants to wash his hair and wants to fuck him in there, too, but Sergio has one leg thrown over his and he’s nosing along his neck, lazy and clingy and dumb after his orgasm, and Iker has never felt so at peace than he does in moments like this, feeling Sergio against him, his heartbeat, his chest breathing in, out. 

**Author's Note:**

> i'm so so so sorry this is all over the place, i was going for pwp and it turned out like this? jumping between povs and just vaguely showing how much they worship each other? i'm so sorry. 
> 
> 1) happy happy birthday jade you're my favorite person in the world.
> 
> 2) to anyone who follows my leo/cris/ney/james fic, i'm going to update next week i PROMISE you, i just came back from the longest trip to see my family in uruguay and i haven't had the time to do it but i will


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